Snow In a Bottle
by Reading Disorder
Summary: Snow globes? Caroling? Mistletoes? Christmas with Rapunzel and Eugene is never dull. Christmas one-shot. Flynn/Rapunzel


**Snow In A Bottle**

**Author's Note**: A big shout-out to **_AIOFanNCRM_,** whose story, The True Meaning Of Christmas, remains a great inspiration to me. Aye, check it out if you've got time.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

O.O

There was only one star gleaming brightly in the sky that night. The bells were pealing at the stroke of midnight, and Rapunzel sprang awake from her bed with a jubilant shout of 'CHRISTMAS!' that reached two floors below her.

From twelve to five she skittered and skipped across the castle, in vigorous preparation for the festivities that she'd been waiting giddily all month for; perfuming the corridors with bottles of frankincense and myrrh, hanging up holly wreaths on the doorways, filling the chimney places with socks and candy canes, decorating the fresh pine trees and tirelessly baking batch after batch of peppermint cookies in the royal kitchen, just like how the books had described. It was a miracle in itself, how the entire castle had been decorated with a splendor never seen before in its previous winters, all by nothing but the single pair of hands of one girl and her goodwill. At the crack of dawn she had disappeared back into her bedroom chamber, and emerged giggling to herself, a large blue box with a green ribbon in her hands.

Just as the first morning light streaked down from the frescoed windows of Eugene's bedroom, there came a knocking at his door, loud, excited, and persistent. Rapunzel didn't wait for an answer before banging the door open.

_"_Merry Christmas, Eugene!_" _she chirped, skipping inside. She drew the curtains open and flooded the room with sunlight. There was a weary groan coming from the odd mess of blankets on the bed where Eugene should be sleeping.

_"_Eugene?" Rapunzel called, uncertainly, prodding the shape warily with her frying pan.

"That's my nose you're hitting."

"It is you!" She flung her arms around him, feeling the familiar, toned shapes of her boyfriend snuggled somewhere underneath the cloth, "What on earth are you doing underneath there?"

"Smothering myself to sleep." He rose like a bear roused from hibernation, taking one big yawn and stretch of arms, his hair a tangled mess, drool seeping from his mouth. The sight made her giggle.

She set the present down on the floor for later, and started to pull at his arm. "Come on! There's something I want to show you!"

"It couldn't wait till noon?"

"How can you be sleeping at a time like this?" Rapunzel was so ecstatic it was contagious, with all the wonder of a girl who's never seen snow all her life, but Eugene was still mourning for his beauty sleep. He had been getting a lot less of it ever since he hooked up with the girl.

They made their ways to the palace balcony, where even the guards were not yet standing at duty until a few more hours, and she drew the curtains back, so giddy with excitement she was trembling slightly in his arms.

"Look," she said, her voice rapturous with awe, "It's snowing."

He inhaled sharply. "Wow. Now that _is_ a sight."

Corona Kingdom, covered in a blanket of ivory-white. The golden colours of the Sun were spread out across the horizon, faint stars like glittering diamonds in the firmament. Tree branches hung limp with loads of snow, and Rapunzel drew in a huge breath as the sweet pine scents mingled with the wind.

"It's everything I've ever dreamed of," she said blissfully.

"You've never seen snow in your tower before?"

"Oh I have. The trees shed their leaves and the lake freezes solid. Mother said I'm not to touch the snow or I'll turn into ice. But I don't believe it anymore." She tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear, more out of habit back a time when length was a concern. "I've always tried to catch some and keep them in a bottle. To make it last. But no matter how hard I try . . . they always melt."

"You tried to keep snow in a bottle?"

Rapunzel punched him playfully in the shoulder, and Eugene put on an expression of mock hurt. "Only till I was sixteen!" was her indignant reply.

They both fell into a comfortable silence, his arm around her waist, admiring the view with the solidarity of each other's intimate company. She craned her neck up, her gaze wandered off to the raining sky. "I wonder what it's like. To touch one." She turned to Eugene, and despite herself she falters just a bit, "I won't turn to ice?" Her voice is so full of trust and guilelessness, that for him to riposte with something dry seemed almost cruel. "By my word." With his promise she seemed invigorated with complete conviction, and fearlessly, she held out her hand for winter to take.

A tiny snowflake fell into her palm; exquisitely icy-cold. Her eyes grew plate-wide, and she held it close, inspecting the tiny, mystical filigree. A smile spread across her face from cheek to cheek. Soon she was grabbing every snow that pelted down with both hands, laughing and squealing with child-like glee, trying to satisfy her curiosity on these white creatures that no science book could quench. Eugene merely watched on with a look of bemusement, any sign of weariness gone from him.

"Oh my gosh," she gasped, "There's a whole blanket of them down there! I could make snowmen, and do snowball fights, and go ice skating, and make snow angels, and lick lampposts, and-"

It took a while for Eugene to figure out what Rapunzel was doing, but by then, she had already vanished off the edge, rappelling down a makeshift pulley made out of knotted blankets and bedsheets. Now why didn't he see this coming.

"Rapunzel, wait!" he called out, sliding down with her, "You can't go out there with your night-gown! You'll catch a cold!"

The girl leapt the last ten feet or so, falling face-down into the pillow of snow with a plop. Still laughing, she began tossing and rolling about, spreading her arms and legs to make snow angels, along with the various snow squiggly lines, snow circles, snow dominoes and snow weird-polygon-shape thing.

"This is the best day _ever_!"

O.O

"This is the worst day ever."

They were back in the castle, huddled close to the fireplace. She was now wrapped in three of four inches thick of jumpers, sipping her hot chicken soup, but still shivering nonetheless. Her nose was a bright-red, and she was constantly sniffling. She found it warmer when Eugene was holding her, so she snuggled up as close as she could into his chest, feeling the soft thump-thump of his heart on her back, his warm cheek brushing against hers. He was looking after her with a mix of 'I-told-you-so' sternness and anxious boyfriend concern, feeding her spoonfuls of the soup when she couldn't do it herself, wrapping his arms around her belly, and whispering reassuring, sweet nothings into her ear. Up this close Eugene could see flecks of snow matted in her chocolate-brown hair, and he found them strangely attractive.

"Eugene?" Her voice was feeble and nasal, in stark contrast to the usual perky, joyful tone she always spoke in. Something painful tugged at Eugene's heart when he heard her like that.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

He paused, unsure of what to say. "You did nothing wrong."

"I should have listened. But I didn't. I went on and . . . and . . . _aaaaah-" _She reared her head back,_ "**-choo**_!" Soup spilt from the bowl in her hands, the spoon rattling. She groaned with the mournful loss that this malady, the common cold, had robbed her of. She'd doubt that even her magical glowing hair (back when she still had it) could cure this.

"Bless you."

She smiled, touched. "Bless you too, Eugene."

"That's actually not . . ." he began, but the light in her eyes quelled any thought of that, "Thanks."

"Oh! That reminds me," she set the bowl down, and began scuffling underneath his bed. One of Eugene's eyebrows rose.

She withdrew a Christmas present, the same one she had walked in with that morning. "I wanted to give you this earlier, but I guess I kind of forgot," she chuckled at the admission of her own ditziness, then handed it over to him, "Here. Open it."

Eugene took it hesitantly, eyes fixed on it like there was a bomb inside it. In his experience, gifts given freely were normally unpleasant. He glanced back at Rapunzel; she was smiling sweetly at him in a way that made his heart jump, watching him expectantly like she did back at the night of the floating lights. Who was he kidding, this was Rapunzel. His love. She wouldn't do anything to deliberately hurt him.

Unwrapping the ribbon, he opened up the box.

"Oh . . ."

Rapunzel's smile could not possibly grow any larger or the top part of her head would fall off. "You like it?"

"Like it?" He twirled the handle of the black stainless steel frying pan with all the dexterity of a seasoned swashbuckling cook. "I love it!" The slender weight of the kitchen utensil felt too good in his hands, that and its concussive properties. "How did you know I wanted one of these?" he said merrily.

Rapunzel blushed, bashfully diverting her eyes to the floorboards. "Back when the guards didn't like you, you told me you always wanted a frying pan of your own. So I went searching for our old one that we left back in the forest. This weapon has a history with you! Isn't that great?"

"Yaay!" he said with a forced smile, at the same time casting an uneasy glance at the weapon that had been responsible for his short-term memory loss problems.

Rapunzel blinked her eyes, leaning in closer to him. "So? What did you get me?"

Eugene cleared his throat. "Pardon?"

"Isn't that what Christmas is about? The joy of giving?" she said. The voice was completely sugar-sweet, but Eugene thought he could hear an accusing, steely tone behind it, "I thought our loved ones would send us gifts as a sign of appreciation."

"Well, I wouldn't know about that, since most of my Christmases were spent running from constables and trying to stay warm during the night underneath a lamp-post," he felt a wince tug at the corner of his eyes upon that bitter memory, but expertly hid it. He fished for something in his pocket, "Anyway, here. I got you this." He left out the part where it was actually Maximus's idea to buy that. A gasp escaped Rapunzel's lips.

It was made of crystal, finely tempered; inside it was an ebony, moss-covered tower that looked much too familiar. A snow-globe.

She took it admirably, almost reverently, stupefaction more than wonderment keeping her mute and motionless.

"Go on. Shake it."

She did, a little bit vigorously. White feathers showered down, dancing and fluttering about, and the little panorama inside began to snow, a perfect diorama of the bliss and wintry beauty she had long sought to preserve. Something in her expression softened and lit up at the same time, as she struggled for words to say, and then, Eugene heard her sobbing. Not out of sadness, but of mirth.

"Eugene. Look." She blinked back tears of joy, "Snow in a bottle."

"Merry Christmas, Rapunzel."

She swooned, "Oh, Eugene-"

He placed a finger on her lips. Who needed to speak at a moment like this?

They embraced again. They were so close now, he could feel the soft quivers of Rapunzel's body, the warmth of her gentle breath, and the sound of carol voices somewhere in the distance.

"Caroling?" Rapunzel suddenly said, "Caroling! I have to see this!"

Together, hands intertwined, they made their way back to the balcony. Down at the streets, underneath the flickering light of lanterns, a choir of small kids were singing the tune of 'O Holy Night'.

"Pascal? What are you doing?" she suddenly cried, "Stop that! It tickles!"

Eugene glanced up and saw the green lizard scrambling on top of her head, scattering little snow flecks everywhere. Its beady eyes stared straight at him, and then it _winked. _He was confused for only about a second, and then he found himself blushing - hanging at the tip of the toad's tail, was an ivy-green mistletoe.

"Silly Pascal," Rapunzel said, blissfully unaware of the traditional implications of the floral decoration, "Get down from there."

"Oh, I think he can stay there for a while, if you don't mind," Eugene said, even as Rapunzel tried to pull the gecko's suction pads off her scalp, and she turned to look at him. He owed it to Pascal big-time.

"Rapunzel," he began, "Did that Christmas research you did ever tell you anything about mistletoes?"

"I do know about mistletoes!" was the exuberant response. "It's a type of shrubbery. People used to think that they grew from birds!"

"Uh-huh," he pulled her closer. He instinctively traced a line up her side, reaching her cheek and caressing it gently. She enjoyed it thoroughly; her cheeks flushed a bright pink.

"What else?"

"It's got red and white berries . . . and . . . they're normally a symbol of . . . of . . ."

Their faces were a hair's breadth away now. Each breath brought icy mists, her hair was fluttering in the wind.

". . . love."

He didn't even think as he bent in to kiss Rapunzel in the lips, tasting the sweet peppermint, hearing her moan aloud with pleasure. It was slow and tender, hesitant at first, but then deeper, more passionate. Electrifying. Fireworks popped around his ears, and then there was tongue, and she dug her hands into the back of his head. He kissed her back gingerly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. It was everything he had imagined it to be.

Eugene didn't know how long they kissed, but by the time they parted, he felt out of breath, hot with blood, and completely doozy. As he looked up at Rapunzel, she was smiling back. "Merry Christmas, Eugene."

It was their best Christmas ever. Hands down.

**A/N**: And a happy holidays and new year to you.


End file.
